


Even If They Could

by tothewillofthepeople



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothewillofthepeople/pseuds/tothewillofthepeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras asked a question and apparently Grantaire is incapable of avoiding it.</p><p>“Yes, you French bastard,” he snarls. “Yes, I did it, I know. Don’t stand here and invalidate the suffering of kids in the same situation I was in.”</p><p>(Soulmate AU where you're incapable of lying to your soulmate)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even If They Could

Courfeyrac lies to every person that he meets, just to see.

When he first met Enjolras in a café he told the blond boy that his name was Peter. Enjolras raised an unimpressed eyebrow and pointed to Courfeyrac’s name tag.

“Just checking,” Courf said with a grin.

Enjolras had rolled his eyes.

***

It happens at a meeting. Neither of them expects it. They’ve known each other for ages- Grantaire as the cynic in the back of the room, Enjolras the flame of truth at the front.

Together they make shadows that stretch across the floor. Enjolras is a painted idealist who often gets lost in his visions of utopia; Grantaire is there to make sure his feet stay firmly on the ground. There is nothing cordial about their acquaintance. They fight, bitterly but constructively, on every point. They make each other better, and they both know it, and that only makes them hate the other more.

Logical argument does not brook much opportunity for personal matters. Maybe that was why they had never noticed.

Until it happens at a meeting.

***

Combeferre only ever lies to people when he’s trying to be nice. He’s determined to not look for his soulmate like Courf does; he wants to find them naturally. So he lies sparingly, and never with the aim of seeing if he actually can.

One day Courfeyrac finds him on his knees, staring out the window, with his glasses and phone shattered at his feet. And he never lies to his friends so he never knew but in that moment all he can do is tell Courfeyrac the truth about his father’s death, however little he wants to.

That’s when he knows.

He doesn’t tell Courfeyrac.

***

They’re arguing about expulsion from high school, of all things. Because Enjolras was a model student, of course he was, and so now he believes that it’s reasonable for students to be kicked out.

Grantaire, though, grew up in dirty classrooms with cracked light bulbs. He’s no stranger to teachers that don’t care, and teachers that care so much they can’t stay. He saw kids get expelled and break down sobbing at the front of the room, so afraid of a future with no education, so sorry for the mistakes they didn’t know any better than to make. So he doesn’t think it’s okay, not at all, and he’s determined to make Enjolras see this.

The other Amis are listening and chiming in, all very much a part of the discussion, but Grantaire and Enjolras are the focal points. They hold the attention of the whole room.

***

Jehan lies about everything, all the damn time. It drives his friends to distraction. They know it’s a study in the affect of a lie on the person telling it but it makes it hard when they’re trying to get things done.

There’s only one person he never lies to, though no one notices. It’s not because he can’t, it’s because he’s afraid that if he tries, he’ll be able to.

***

And it turns to drugs, of course it does, because nothing in Grantaire’s life is easy and apparently the only students that Enjolras knew that got expelled were the addicts.

“Kicking them out isn’t an answer, though,” Grantaire is snarling. “Putting them somewhere where they have even less opportunities to get educated? That’s ridiculous.”

“The schools have rules that need to be followed, if they are just,” Enjolras says back, tying to stay composed but very obviously burning. “Breaking good and reasonable rules should result in punishment.”

“They don’t know any better! The schools tiptoe around drug abuse issues, you know they do, and these kids don’t know what they’re getting into, they don’t know what it’s like!”

Enjolras’s brow is furrowed and his words are like acid. “Speaking from experience, Grantaire?”

And Grantaire chokes.

***

Joly and Bossuet just knew. They never even had to try lying. 

They weren’t looking for Musichetta, but when she came along and they couldn’t tell her that no, of course Enjolras wasn’t trying to graffiti the side of her building (he totally was), they opened their arms to her all the same, despite the strain their initial meeting put upon their relationship.

(She never turned them in for the graffiti, and even commented later that she liked it.)

***

He can’t say anything and he knows why immediately. It terrifies him, because why does it have to be this subject, with this man, right now? He’s never told anyone, not even Éponine.

But Enjolras asked a question and apparently Grantaire is incapable of avoiding it.

“Yes, you French bastard,” he snarls. “Yes, I did it, I know. Don’t stand here and invalidate the suffering of kids in the same situation I was in.”

Then he stands up, because he never wanted his Amis to know this, and he definitely didn’t want Enjolras to know, and he never tried lying to his Apollo because he was so certain that Fate would never be that cruel but here he is and he needs to get out.

Jehan looks up at him, panicked, and across the room Éponine is shooting to her feet, but Grantaire doesn’t look at either of them as he pulls on his coat and all but runs to the door.

***

Bahorel had never really looked for his soulmate. He knows they’ll come along when they’re ready; he’ll be waiting. So he lies, sparingly, and never just to see if he can. He wants it to be a surprise.

He meets Feuilly, who never lies to anyone, because he grew up unwanted and he’s afraid of finding a soulmate and having them reject him, too. And Bahorel wants to try lying to him, he really does, but he tries to stay true to his promise to just let it happen.

But Feuilly never lies.

Bahorel gets more and more frustrated because, god, it’s Feuilly, you know? He really loves that skinny little ginger. It’s unfair.

Feuilly doesn’t seem to notice.

It comes to a head one night when Bahorel is drunk, because of course he can’t stick to his plans when he’s drunk, so he tries to tell Feuilly that he’s sober and he can’t, he really can’t, and it makes him so happy that he presses a sloppy kiss to Feuilly’s nose and says, grinning, “I can’t lie to you, you ginger shit.”

Feuilly shoves him against a wall and kisses him soundly. Bahorel can’t stop fucking smiling. And when Feuilly pulls away he tries to lie (just to see) but he looks like he’s choking on the words and then he’s beaming and breathing “I’d hoped it was you,” before kissing Bahorel again.

***

Enjolras stares after him. A frown remains on his angelic face but it’s tempered with confusion; why had Grantaire reacted in such a way? Why had he stormed off? Their fights were often bitter but Enjolras had never seen the other man look so distraught.

He doesn’t notice, for the longest time, that everyone in the café is staring at him.

***

Courfeyrac doesn’t find out until he tries to tell Combeferre that Grantaire was the one that set the couch on fire, and he can’t. It catches him so off guard that he doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first, just keeps trying to frame the words as the couch flames higher and Combeferre yelps and tries to put it out, his face is all smeared with ash and his shirtsleeves are all rolled up and Courfeyrac is so distracted and why can’t he talk?

“Oh,” he says suddenly. “Oh.”

Combeferre hears him and freezes. He turns his head slowly, like he can’t believe it.

“Did you know?” Courfeyrac asks quietly, feeling his eyes start to water. Though, now that he thinks about it, it’s probably because of the couch…

Shit.

They both return their attention to the smoldering furniture, coughing and hacking with grey tears on their faces as they beat down the flames and dissipate the smoke as best they can.

When it’s all said and done Combeferre takes his glasses off and cleans them with quick, jerky movements. “I knew,” he says quietly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Combeferre flinches; the quiet pain in Courf’s voice kills him. “Because you lie to everyone,” he replies quietly. “I assumed you already had decided it wasn’t me.”

“’Ferre, I didn’t start lying to everyone until after we were friends,” Courfeyrac breathes. “I never even realized I hadn’t tried with you.”

Combeferre looks up in time to see Courfeyrac’s wide, brilliant smile. He looks ridiculous, his hair streaked with ashes and soot on his hands and the stupid burned couch behind him and Combeferre can’t help but smile too, because he’s so glad. He’s so glad.

***

“You bastard,” someone snaps, and Enjolras looks around in surprise. Éponine is glaring at him, her delicate hands clenched into fists. She’s not technically an Ami, and she hardly ever comes to rallies, but since she and ‘Chetta work at the Musain they take their breaks with the group. She’s breathing hard, staring right at Enjolras.

“What?” He asks, startled.

“He’s never even told me that,” she spits out. “I’m sure you’re the last person he would want to know about that.”

Enjolras narrows his eyes at her and leans forward, putting his palms on the table in front of him. “Why is Grantaire announcing a rather unsurprising secret grounds for calling me a bastard?”

Combeferre has his head buried in his hands.

“Enjolras,” Jehan says carefully. “Grantaire lied to Éponine about drug abuse, when she asked. You might want to think a little harder about why he wouldn’t lie to you.”

For a moment, Enjolras still doesn’t get it.

Then his face goes white.

***

Montparnasse already knows who his soulmate is. It was an accident. He’d tried to say that his black eye didn’t hurt and the words wouldn’t come out. He’s petty about it though, so he pretends it didn’t happen. He figures his soulmate will figure it out eventually; she lies as easily as she breathes.  
He loves that about her.

***

The meeting is adjourned early that night. Enjolras ignores the rain as he runs through the streets of Paris, desperately hoping that Grantaire is at home, desperately afraid that he will be.

When he gets to the artist’s door he’s a mess; blond hair soaked and clinging to his face and neck, red hoodie drenched, out of breath and with a stitch in his side that makes it hard for him to stand upright and knock on the door.

That’s why he doesn’t knock, he tells himself. His side hurts. As soon as he catches his breath he’ll knock.

It takes a long time for him to catch his breath.

***

Marius had no method for finding his soulmate; he never really thought about it. One day he runs into a pretty blonde girl with skin like white rose petals. He doesn’t remember what lie he tried to tell, but he knows that after his coughing and spluttering had subsided she was smiling sweetly at him and linking her arm with his.

Her name was Cosette. She lied to people the same way Courfeyrac did, but she was glad that Marius had tried first.

***

The door opens before Enjolras is ready for it, but he stands up straight and squares his shoulders because there’s Grantaire, staring at him, pausing in the act of coming outside.

Enjolras stares bitterly. He doesn’t know why this has happened to him.

“Are you okay?”

Enjolras looks at Grantaire and tries to say yes.

He can’t.

***

Éponine’s not stupid. She knows that Mont is her soulmate, that the pale skinny punk had been unable to lie about that stupid black eye. She knows because she tried to say she hated his leather jacket once.

She doesn’t mention it because she thinks their dynamic works better when that issue is unaddressed. Montparnasse would feel the need to treat her differently if they talked it out and she doesn’t want to make him uneasy (though he would deny that).

They love each other in their own way. They don’t need to declare it.

***

It doesn’t work right away. They’re uneasy, and bitter, and Enjolras still thinks expulsion is a valid option and Grantaire hates him for that, but they do their best. They talk things out. They try not to yell. Grantaire spends more and more time lounging on Enjolras’s couch, trying to be civil, sometimes staying late into the night and finding himself there in the morning, and Enjolras finds that he’s most comfortable when he can sit in Grantaire’s big armchair and talk to him about Robespierre. He starts to fall asleep there a lot, when arguments devolve into easier conversations about books and movies.

One night Grantaire shows Enjolras the paintings he did in rehab. The next day Enjolras borrows Grantaire’s green sweatshirt when he goes to work. 

When Enjolras wakes up from nightmares he starts calling Grantaire, telling him quietly about what his parents were like and how he still dreams about them yelling. 

When Enjolras falls out of the stupidly comfy armchair one night Grantaire just rolls his eyes and tugs him into his own room, threatening him if he dares to steal the good pillow.

When Grantaire’s art teacher dies Enjolras goes with him to the funeral and gently takes his hand when they walk inside. Afterwards he takes Grantaire back to his home and makes him tea, and they sit silently at his kitchen table all night until the sun bleeds through the window.

It takes a long time for the bitterness to leave their voices when they fight, but it happens. When they’re tired their voices are not as harsh, and they learn to carry that serenity into their waking days.

It takes longer for one of them (they’ll forever debate about who it was) to be brave enough to steal a gentle kiss from the other on a meandering walk home, but it happens too.

They never lie to each other. They wouldn’t, even if they could.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was from [this tumblr post!](http://kvothes.tumblr.com/post/98151322660/dyleon-soulmate-au-where-you-cant-lie-to-your) On tumblr I am [kvothes.](http://kvothes.tumblr.com/tagged/x)


End file.
